


A Dark Mirror

by DustToDust



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Silent Hill
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They should have ignored the signs calling them to the dead town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thursday prompt, from Kaitouhime1412 who wanted Tim in Silent Hill. I don't think there's enough darkness in the world to cover what would come out if Timmy ever went to that place.

Tim tries to turn around the second he steps through the door and sees the puddle of blood on the floor. Sees the faded and destroyed foyer that’s no less familiar for all that it looks like the walls have been torn away to reveal the living innards of the building. Bleeding flesh beating to the distinct beat that’s chased him through this town. Some dark music that brings Gotham to mind despite the miles between her and this town.

Tim slams up against the door that’s already closed. Fingers clawing at the handle like the icy fingers of panic tearing up his throat. The handle rattles but won’t turn and the door shudders under the weight of his kicks but remains stubbornly solid. “No, no, no, no, please no-“

Pure terror dulls his mind allowing instinct, that base animal thing, to take over. He growls and scratches at the rotting wood. Ignoring the way the splinters dig into his flesh through the rips and tears of his gauntlets. Tim freezes at the first creaky whine. His heart beating loud enough he thinks he couldn’t possibly hear anything over it until it comes again.

Slowly Tim turns, hand still twisting the knob. His eyes flinch over the blood pool. Dark and congealed around something he doesn’t allow himself to focus on. Over the decayed remains of shoes and scratched pictures of people Tim could recognize if he let himself. The noise comes again. Deep in the living room, behind the broken frame of a couch.

Tim’s instinct screams at him to run away. To batter his body against the door until either it or his body give out. His mind clamps down hard on that though. Logic taking back the reigns and reminding him that whatever this place was, whatever the game being played, running was the quickest way to die. It was all one big mind game after all. Everything he’s seen a twisted reflection of his own life. Chasing and guiding him along a convoluted path, leading Tim to something. Some act or realization. Closer to the mind behind everything.

And investigating the strange noise is the only way to move things along.

Tim steps into the living room. Ignoring the way his boots slip slightly, not looking down until he’s out of the foyer. His bo is solid and reassuring in his hands as he goes wide and slowly edges around couch. A millimeter at a time. Hyper alert for any trick or monster that might be waiting for him to lock eyes on it.

His breath locks up in his throat when he sees the wheelchair. On it’s side, the upright wheel spinning slowly. Squeaking when it reaches one warped edge.

It’s not a chair Tim’s seen before. Not the sturdy yet elegant one Dad had used for a while, and it’s not the sleek lightweight design Babs favors. It’s not either of their chairs but for a minute --then two and three-- it is, and Tim’s shaking as he turns away sharply.

Stepping onto something soft that shifts under his heels and grabs him.

Tim kicks out blindly. Hearing a sickening crunch even as he falls forward. The hands release his foot and start to claw up his leg. Pulling him back towards something that gurgles and moans. Tim looks down for one terrifying second and screams. Logic fleeing once again in the face of something shaped like his father.

Blood escapes its mouth as it opens wide, blackened and broken teeth snapping closed against Tim’s leg with enough force to bruise him but not break the armor. Yet. Tim goes wild at the thought, looking away and kicking back as hard as he can. Hands scrambling for the staff that had skittered out of his hands as high keens of sound escape his own mouth.

His index finger catches on it and the bo rolls into his hands. The creature’s face caves in almost completely under the first hit. The second gives Tim room to stumble to his feet. The third makes the creature twitch spastically. The fourth, fifth, eighth, and twentieth are not needed, but Tim keeps hitting the creature until there’s nothing recognizable left. Until he’s a panting wreck bent over it. Barely able to see through the tears trapped behind the mask.

Tim stumbles down the hall blindly. Feet taking him automatically to a small dark room. The staff clatters to the broken tile and Tim has the presence of mind to make sure the door is closed before bending over the cracked tub and throwing up.

He fumbles the mask off with shaking fingers when his stomach empties. Feeling the sting of adhesive pulling off the top layer of his skin and the warm spill of tears stings down his face. The vomit stinks and blends in with the sticky stains that blacken the tub. Tim backs away trying to wipe the inside lens of the mask clean. A task made worse by not having anything clean to do it with. A flickering bulb swings above him as he turns to where a sink should be. Now just a series of jutting pipes and a cracked mirror with words written on it.

Tim goes utterly still. Catching the words he’s seen before, but still manage to gut him each time. They’re spaced perfectly apart so that he can see his face in them. Tear stained and hollow looking in a frame of words asking, “Why do you get to live?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we look in on Jason. Sorry.

Jason pries open the elevator doors and cautiously peers through. The hallway is dark and empty, and looks like an abandoned hospital should. The walls don't bleed, shadows don't scuttle on the floor, and unearthly laughter doesn't rise from every corner. He's out of the Otherworld then, finally. 

He leaves the elevator carefully because either world is dangerous still. One is just less likely to mindfuck you while throwing monsters at you. He passes the records room and swings back in. Hands automatically opening the cabinet and pulling the by now memorized file out. Eyes skipping down what is written about the John Doe with his face. No new information has been added this time. No new clue to tell Jason who he is. 

He brushes a thumb over the clinical account of Doe waking up and claiming the name Jason. Wishing once again that the fuck who'd been with him had pushed for more information while he'd obviously still had his memories. 

Wishing didn't do shit though. Jason scowls and shoves the file back. A twinge in his shoulder reminding him of that last swipe from a monster he hadn't been able to avoid. It burns and he can feel blood dripping down. Soaking into the fabric of his shirt. Being hurt really shouldn't make Jason as happy as it does, but he's smiling as he slips back into the corridors. Walking quickly to another wing where the light is brighter and the monsters not as prevalent. 

"Tim," Jason knocks lightly on a set of barred doors. "It's me, open up."

There's a flash of dark hair and eyes through the slightly cloudy window set in the door before he hears the wooden planks being removed. He doesn't wait for the door to open fully. Not trusting the safety of the wing to hold up. He helps Tim barricade the door of the only untouched looking room in the whole place. It's spotless and bright, and with Tim in his nurse whites it always leaves Jason feeling like he could be in a functional hospital. 

"Jason you're hurt!" Tim's exclamation is as soft as the fingers pressing into his back. His mouth turns down in a worried frown and his blue eyes bright with it. He whirls away, deftly pulling out bandages and other medical supplies. "Take your shirt off."

Something flirty nearly rolls off Jason's tongue but he bites it back as he carefully shrugs off the clinging shirt. As much fun as it is to see Tim's pale skin flush bright red, seeing the young man stumble over his words is a little painful. 

Tim is the only person Jason has found after waking up in a rusty and dirty bed. The only thing that has made one bit of sense in the morbid funhouse this nightmare is. Jason's unspeakably grateful to have found him. Before one of the monsters made him into just another bloody corpse. His thin fingers fly through a stack of paper, pulling out two that look like pads. In the bright light he fairly glows. All fragile, pale skin and impeccably clean clothes. 

Jason stares intently. More than he probably should but he doesn't care. Neither does Tim, he gives Jason a shy smile when he turns, "On the bed, Jason."

The smirk slips out and Tim blushes faintly as Jason hops up onto the bed. Giving Tim his back. Ignoring the tiny voice in his mind that screams it isn't right. Tim's cool fingers touch him, soothing some of the fire. Gently mapping out the edges of the wound before liquid pours over his back and the man starts cleaning out the smaller than Jason expected wound. 

"Hey," Jason frowns as he sees the pile of food he'd brought last time. A few granola bars and a bottle of water. All untouched. Not even the water has been cracked open. "You didn't eat."

"I'm not hungry," Tim's words puff against Jason's skin and he suppresses a shiver. Turning it into a wince when something pinches and pulls in his back. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well," Jason winces again as scratchy cloth is placed tightly against the injury. There's nothing stronger than aspirin around so he'll just have to deal with the feeling until the bandage soaks in enough blood to not be so abrasive. "You need to. We might have to make a run for it and you'll need all your energy."

Tim says nothing as he finishes taping the bandage down. He still says nothing as his fingers check and recheck each edge. Jason turns around, throwing his legs over the bed so he has Tim trapped between them. Reaching out to gently grab his arms. Ignoring the way his filthy hands look wrong against Tim's white sleeves. "Hey, what's wrong."

Tim bites his lips. His eyes, when he looks up, are lost and shining. His fingers clutch at Jason's knees. "I-I'm scared, Jason. I think- I think I'm not-"

"Hey, hey," Tim's nearly crying. His breath coming in helpless little gasps. Jason reels him in close. Wrapping him up in his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. Jesus, Tim feels so thin and fragile there. Like any wrong move on Jason's part can shatter him. "It's ok. It'll all be alright. I promise."

"No," Tim wails. His face turning into Jason's neck. Lips brushing his skin in a way that Jason feels helpless against. "You don't understand. I'm-"

"No, Tim," Jason dares to hold on a little tighter. Risking hurting Tim but needing him to calm down even more. "I'll take care of you. Nothing's going to hurt you, ever."

Tim shivers. His arms coming up around Jason's neck as he moves. Back and up. Soft lips pressing tentatively to Jason's in the sweetest kiss. One that makes Jason go absolutely still. Not even daring to breath as he gently kisses back. His chest twisting with the need to save this man. To protect him from all the horror outside those doors. 

"Don't leave me," Tim pulls back enough to say. His eyes wide and a little red from the tears. He pushes Jason back onto the bed and follows him up. Settling over Jason's hips in a way that makes him dismiss the flare of pain from his back. "Promise you won't leave me."

Tim is pale against the white ceiling. His edges nearly lost against it. Jason reaches up to cup his cheek. Hesitating at the sight of his dirt and gore encrusted nails against his purity. "Tim-"

"Promise me!" Tim seizes his hand and turns to feather kisses against the calloused palm. His eyes pleading in a way Jason can't ignore if he tried. "Please Jason."

"I promise," Jason breathes out, feeling like he's being gutted. Tim leans down and kisses him again. Soft lips and even softer hands finding skin, pulling his clothes open. Touching and stroking until Jason felt like he's floating. Not connected with the ground at all even as he pulls Tim under him. His pale skin blending with the sheets all over as Jason tries so hard not to hurt him. Lips pressing, "I promise," all over until the tears and sorrow leaves those blue eyes.

~

"We have to go," Jason says the second he's inside. Going immediately to the cabinets to grab what useful things he can fit in his pockets.

"Jason," Tim hovers by the doors. The board dropping from his hands. Jason tosses a grin over his shoulder at the man. 

"I found a way out," Jason grabs the needles and leaves most of the bandages. Rags can be used but needles aren't easy to come by. "We're getting out of this hell hole. Be somewhere really safe and free before the day's done."

Somewhere safe with Tim. Jason's nearly giddy with the thought of it. The thought if saving Tim nearly all he could think about after he got the map. Marked up and showing the way out. 

"Jason!" Tim is right there when Jason turns. His arms folding around him and Jason tips down into a kiss that isn't sweet or soft. It's desperate and Jason moans at the feeling of it until he tastes blood. 

"Tim! Sorry, I," Jason jerks back and looks at Tim's split lip. A bead of blood rolls down his pale skin and Jason feels something deep in him become unsettled at the sight. It isn't right. Jason reaches up to press a thumb against the opposite side of his lip. "I'm sorry."

Tim gasps and jerks back from his touch. Blue eyes wide as another drop of blood rolls down. From the new cut made just under Jason's thumb. "Jason."

"Tim?" Jason blinks at the new wound reaching out to grab the man and pull him closer to look at it. Tim jerks and cries out at the touch. Red beading up and soaking quickly through the sleeve of his uniform under Jason's hand. "Tim!"

"Ja- Jason, please," Tim lurches back hand covering the bloody splotch. The entire arm hanging useless. His eyes are wet and pleading. "Don't leave me."

Jason catches Tim as he stumbles. Mind blank with absolute panic and impending horror. Blood blossoms up everywhere he touches and Tim cries out in pain even as his fingers curl around Jason's shirt. Deep and nearly black. Arterial blood, the sort of blood you only see when someone's dying. 

"You," Jason chokes out as he tries to rip the uniform off. Tries to get to whatever is hurting Tim, his Tim, like this. "No, no, no!"

Tim makes a choked noise as a dark spot nearly bursts across his chest. Right over his heart. His breathing is ragged and pained, his eyes panicked. Jason reaches for his neck. Needing to feel the pulse there. He watches in horror as the skin splits under his fingers. Parting like his touch is razor sharp and spilling a waterfall of blood down Tim's neck. 

It hits Jason, as he realizes that Tim's trying to push him away, that he's the one doing this to Tim. 

The bed rattles as Jason's back hits it. His boots slip sliding in the blood as he throws himself away from Tim. Too late, far too late for the young man gurgling in a pool of his own blood. Blue eyes stare accusingly at him as Tim's fingers twitch against slash if his neck, "You promised."

The words echo and Jason's not sure he even hears them as the room shivers around him. The walls peeling away to reveal the rot within. The light flickering as laughter fills the room. Each burst of light eating away at Tim until there's nothing left but a rotting, stinking corpse with glassy blue eyes. 

Jason screams. Screams until he can't and then some more. The laughter rises over it all.


	3. Chapter 3

The mirror shatters.

Bright shards raining down to the dirty floor. Damian’s careful not to look into the still dangerous glass as he continues down the hall. Swinging his axe quickly and precisely so that each of the dark mirrors is destroyed before it can capture his image. Capture a bit of his soul to twist. The sound of it attracts the creatures that hide in the shadow and Damian pushes as far as he dares before falling back to face the skittering things.

Retreating to the alcove he’s stuffed Richard in. Eyes glazed and distant as he fights off something Damian only understands the bare basics of. A mental attack that had hit them all to various degrees when they entered this cursed area. Meant to split them up, it had worked on Drake and Todd, and nearly on Richard as well. It had taken all Damian had to keep up with his eldest brother. He still hadn’t been able to save him from the mirrors though.

It had been a twisted and rotten creature that Damian found attacking Richard. Something black and shaped like the older man as it broke through the mirror and attempted to kill them both before escaping into the building. Leaving Richard nearly catatonic.

Chittering fills his ears and Damian steps forward as two of the creatures slip out of cracks in the ceiling. Blackened spiders larger than Damian and with just enough of a feminine suggestion to their shape to be disturbing even to him. Gaping maws filled with teeth grin open at him as they jerkily advance. They’re agile but easily defeated. One shrieks as he cleaves the head area open with a single strike. The other dances in shared pain long enough for Damian to turn the axe on it. Less than thirty seconds to take care of both.

Damian whirls. Axe already swinging to take out the third that _always_ appears when he looks away long enough. Silent and creeping towards Richard. Given a choice the creatures will ignore Damian and go after his brother. He’s not sure if that’s connected with the mirrors or not as of yet.

Gore splatters the wall as Damian flicks the axe. Observing the edge of the head and testing the handle. This weapon will break soon enough, but at least it will last him longer than the boards he’d been forced to use in the beginning. Satisfied, Damian reaches out to pull on one of Richard’s arms, “Get up, Grayson. We must move on.”

Richard stands easily without further prompting and follows Damian further down the hall. His eyes wander over the creatures and he only needs one tug to keep up. It’s a vast improvement that only furthers Damian’s belief the mirrors have much to do with his brother’s condition. With each one destroyed the man seems to regain a little more of his mind. A little more animation and awareness.

It’s a large building that they are in, and the mirrors are everywhere. Damian paces forward steadily to the next glint. Boots crunching over broken shards. Determined to snap his brother out of this assault. No matter how far he has to walk or how many creatures crawl out of the rotten walls around them. He will save Richard and then he will find Timothy and Jason. Save those idiots from whatever mess they have undoubtedly gotten themselves into.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason doesn’t know why he’s running anymore. Doesn’t know why he doesn’t just fall down and bare his throat to the winged monster chasing him through the streets.

That’s a lie. Jason growls as he clips his shoulder against a car. Hearing the shriek of tearing metal behind him. He knows why he’s running. Why he’s still fighting.

He counts seconds and turns. Bringing the crowbar down viciously on the monster just as it reaches the right height. The strangely bat shaped head crumbles likes paper but Jason doesn’t stop hitting the monster until it’s stopped moving. Too many things tend to get back up in this town if he doesn’t feel that final crunch. Jason kicks the corpse one final time with a barely repressed scream of rage.

He’s still fighting because he’s pissed the fuck off. He’s still fighting because nothing in this fucked up town is real but every bit of it tears at the blankness of his mind. The monsters twisting when his eyes close to things almost human. Almost familiar. The buildings are familiar enough for him to navigate without maps. The rotted things inside almost identifiable enough for him to remember. Like a word on the tip of his tongue it bothers him. Tim-

Jason jerks away from the monster and turns back to the fog choked streets.

Tim wasn’t real. Not at the end at least. Maybe not ever. Jason’s got a strong gut feeling that’s the case. Something he’d ignored when he first found the nurse just because it was so nice to see another human face. Hear another voice. Touch-

Static bursts over the radio Jason carries and he backs quickly out of the alley he was trying to cut through. Before the shapeless shadows can lock onto him.

The Tim in the hospital wasn’t real, but Jason’s gut is telling him that there was a Tim. Is a Tim. Somewhere in the dark of his memories. Maybe he’d looked like the fake one, maybe he didn’t. Jason doesn’t know and he won’t until he either gets the hell out of this town or regains his memory.

Jason’s starting to think that those two goals might be the same.


	5. Chapter 5

Damian’s past ready for a break.

It’s tiring. Traveling the maze like corridors and keeping track of a now freely wandering Richard. Whose eyes track Damian more and more, and is getting enough sense back to make decisions and fights Damian at times.

Few of the apartments they wander past are fit to be stepped in so Damian takes full advantage of the ones that are when he finds them. Scouting out the dilapidated rooms for danger as quickly as he can before allowing Richard in.

Richard takes more coaxing to go through this door, but Damian’s nearly mastered the art of herding the senseless man. A firm hand on his back and a very pleading tone of voice seems to break through even his most stubborn refusals.

Damian catches movement behind him as he’s shutting the door and he spins quickly to confront it. Richard is safe to the right as the door latches shut but Damian’s not prepared for the sight that greets him.

In the main room —which had been empty mere seconds ago!— is a mirror. The surface blackened and already distorting around the image of his own face. It is mesmerizing. Watching a black veined version of his own face rip through the liquid darkness of the mirror. Twisted limbs breaking free to pull this new creature out into the world.

Damian watches in fascination even as a part of his mind rebels against it. Reminded of the trance Richard had suffered through even as his life was slowly being choked out of him.

"Nngh!" Damian clutches the axe. Splinters digging into his palms in small pinpricks of pain that help clear some of the sucking apathy creeping through him. Enough to get his weapon up as the twisted thing lurches into sudden motion. Throwing itself across the room. Sharp talons reaching for Damian’s face. His vision darkening as it nears.

He cannot breathe. Cannot see. It is cold and blurry like he is under water. Damian feels trapped and weak. Unable to do more than press against the smooth glass of his prison. Watching motion outside until he is needed. Until he is no longer just another spare.

No. Damian lashes out. Against the illusion, against the creature. “No!”

The blow is weak and wild. He barely repels the thing’s hands but the blade bites into blackened flesh. Just enough for it to shriek in pain. To pull back enough to breath. To feel a hot line of pain down his neck.

"Tt!" The scratch clears Damian’s mind quicker than anything else has. Richard makes a distressed sound behind him and Damian risks a quick glance back to his brother to ensure nothing has appeared behind him.

It is a necessary mistake.

Richard is fine. Staring with something akin to horror as the creature takes the opening provided. Damian grunts as he is tackled to the floor. Weapon up and pressed under it's neck keeping it far enough away that it can barely reach his neck.

It hisses and spits like a feral cat. Talons scoring deep gouges in the places where his armor is light on his arms. It’s eyes are dark and reflective. Damian cannot see himself in those eyes.

Dizziness creeps up on him as it tries to ensnare his mind once again. “I think not!”

Damian kicks out with both feet. Propelling the creature back into the crooked frame that once held it. He follows after. Pushing himself past the negligible pain and manufactured weakness. He has no time for it. Not with Richard helpless and still so open for attack. Not with their other brothers still missing.

The creature wails, high and sharp, as the axe bites into the soft joint of the neck and shoulder. Black, stinking blood pours out as he rips the weapon free. Swinging again before the creature can. Hacking away at the slick gap in its neck. Again and again until he crunches through bone and sinew. Severing the head from the twitching body.

The axe thuds into the floor one final time. The handle snapping in his hands with a loud crack followed by the thud of Damian’s knees hitting the floor.

Damian chokes on something rotten and vile. His vision swimming again as he falls to the ground. Convulsing. Drowning. Suffocating.

Damian sees his own struggling face in the creatures dead eyes as he vomits up a tar black substance and passes out.


	6. Chapter 6

Tim hears the scream and freezes. It's nearby and echoes oddly in the fog. Sharp and filled with so much rage that Tim's moving without further thought, because it's _familiar_.

It's Jason.

The fog gives way reluctantly and he moves fast. Fast gets him past most of the monsters before they can react. Gets him past the twisted wrecks dotting the streets before he can see them. Before he can _recognize_ them.

Tim nearly trips over the first corpse. A mangled thing with batlike wings. Blood pools around it black and tacky. Footprints lead away from it. Boot prints in the tread that too many criminals know intimately.

It's the first sign Tim's found that any of the others are still alive, and Tim has to bite back the urge to shout Jason's name. Noise is a beacon in this city and Tim's not stupid enough to risk more exposure. He's not like Jason, ready to take everything down head on.

He follows the prints Jason leaves behind. The mangled corpses just recognizable enough to churn his stomach. Twisting through the streets until he hears another shout. Closer.

Jason's in an alley. Stomping something that shrieks and thrashes. A symphony of broken bones and pained filled cries. A sharper crack echoes through the alley and it goes still.

Jason stumbles back panting. His mouth pulled open in a snarl as he nearly spits on the monster. Hands flexing convulsively on a pipe of some sort.

"Jason," Tim says. Loud enough to carry and let the on edge man know he's there before moving closer.

A wise decision. 

Jason spins toward Tim fast his weapon --a _crowbar_ Tim realizes with sick dread-- raised and ready to lash out. The man's normal paranoia dialed up to ten by the town. Tim holds one hand up. Spreading the fingers wide even as he holds his own bo loose and ready. One eye on the shadows still even as he watches Jason. Tim smiles reassuringly and feels the way his dry lips crack a bit with the movement.

"I didn't think I'd find anyone else," Tim tenses at movement to the side of them. Turning slightly but it's only a bit of torn cloth. For now. "Have you seen any sign of Dick or Damian?"

"Tim," Jason's voice is hoarse and slightly broken. Tim wonders how long he's been yelling, and what that means about the size of the town because he hadn't heard it before now.

"Jason?" Tim frowns and focuses more on the man as he stays still. Arms lax and face absolutely vacant. It's unnerving and Tim studies Jason closely. "Are you alright? Wounded, compromised?"

He rattles off the standard questions even though this isn't a standard situation and takes a step forward. Hand hovering over the pouches he lost too long ago before curling into a fist. He has very basic medical stuff smashed into the one belt he still has. To be used sparingly, because while he's seen the hospital he hasn't quite figured out how to get there, and there's no guarantee that anything useful will be left anyway.

"I'm fine!" Jason snaps. Stepping back and holding up one hand. It wavers uncertainly. "Fine. Just," Jason laughs. Harsh and more than a little broken. "This place."

"Yeah," Tim agrees. Images of twisted faces burned into his mind. Nightmares come to life. "This place."

They're both silent then. Awkward in the shared knowledge of how messed up the town is. How messed up it's made them, and Tim knows they came in pretty damaged to begin with.

"We need to find Dick and Damian," Tim says after the silence has stretched out too long. "Find them and get away from here."

Jason _stares_. Stares and nods slowly. "Yeah. Alright. Let's find them and get the fuck outta here."

"Ok," Tim hesitates. There's something _wrong_ with Jason, but he knows the man. Jason won't cop to whatever it is until he's nearly dead from it. "I came from the East. I guess you came South?"

Jason nods. Tight lipped in a way that's abnormal for him. "The hospital. Didn't see," Jason shifts and Tim knows he's going to lie, "anyone. Not them at least."

"North and West it is," Tim waits a bit but Jason doesn't argue. Tim knows that he's going to regret it even as he moves to take point. Feeling Jason's eyes burning a hole in his back. "I saw a map, there's a school this way. You keep rear watch?"

"Yeah. I got it," there's an annoyed edge to his voice. Which is more like the Jason Tim knows.

"Good," Tim says as he sets off. Mentally mapping the way. Watching the fog and tracking Jason by sound. Ready for anything. From the town and from Jason.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Holding Hands Through The Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013837) by [ImpulsivelyBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulsivelyBlue/pseuds/ImpulsivelyBlue)




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